Ave Maria
by Elise the Writing Desk
Summary: A short time before their show, Michel learned a little to deal with his life from the sweet, timid Cloé. Little did he knows, she's braver than he gave her credit for.


**Ave Maria  
**_April 18th 2015_  
by Elise the Writing Desk, Characters by Buriki Clock

* * *

Gentle, warm and soothing melody. The piece often brought Michel into a peaceful state of mind. Whenever he heard it, even he, who despised violin so, had the urge to take the instrument and play along. This particular piano player, however, gave the piece a personal touch.

Michel was acquainted with the piano player several days earlier during a rehearsal. Cloé, if he was not mistaken. The way she played, the melody sounded fleeting, as if wanting to fly and be free—perhaps reminding him how it felt to watch a floating kite. Her fingers graced on the keys just so gently that some tones were fading, as if disappearing into heights. If not for the silence of the stage—for the time being—he would most likely missed the intentional impression.

The blonde boy dared not to enter the stage until she finished the piece—for some reason, he felt that it was a personal show she made. A side of her she'd rather kept a secret. As a genius, Michel quickly admitted that Cloé herself was a stunning pianist, yet the way she played with him during rehearsal—_Nocturne No. 20_—was much more different than this fleeting _Ave Maria_. She was more precise and careful—not that her personal _Ave Maria_ was anything bad.

In truth, Michel rather enjoyed it.

As she reached the cadenza gently, Michel didn't walk in right away. Michel didn't want her to know that he's been listening. He wanted her to believe that no one else knew her secret. He was rather surprised himself for being very considerate—as he admitted, he's one selfish and insensitive boy—and only stepped in through the red curtain after he felt it's a satisfactory timing.

Cloé stood from the bench and nodded politely, looking a bit different than the first he saw her.

"The show is in an hour, Michel. Are you prepared? Should we do a quick rehearsal?" she offered timidly, her fingers twiddling before her chest.

Michel scoffed. "Personally, I need not such hassle, unless you'd like to loosen yourself?" Which he was only saying to make up his alibi, pretending that he didn't know she was already playing.

The dark-haired girl smiled sincerely, despite his concern was a fake one. She refused, saying she had no trouble with concerts, as she had done a lot with her father. Michel couldn't help but notice that she seemed rather sheepish whenever mentioning her father. He especially couldn't forget how a few days ago, she turned pale when her father, Alain Ardennes, picked her in the backstage room.

"What have you been playing before?" Michel asked, as he felt oddly awkward being silent with her. It was odd—as he usually didn't care about ignoring people around him, yet he couldn't ignore this girl.

"Cloé played lots," Cloé shyly grinned, gesturing her hand so they'd sit on the piano bench. She hummed, looking onto her shiny black shoes. "Cloé often played Chopin's because father always had Chopin...Cloé prefer Schubert's, personally." She had a slightly bright smile when mentioning this.

Well, there's no surprise about that, Michel mentally scoffed. She asked his latest concerts, and he only explained it curtly. Michel couldn't really remember what he had been playing—he didn't care at all. Sometimes he didn't even listen to himself when he lifted his bow.

"To be honest, I don't really care for violin—or music, in average." He said. Michel had tried other instruments—his first was piano, and he only continued with violin because it was the most popular one—which meant _profitable_—despite trying various instruments and quickly learned them, he still had no interest with them.

"Then, if not music, what you'd like to do, Michel?" Cloé asked curiously. "Do you have other hobby or other dream? Cloé likes drawing! Maybe if not piano, Cloé wants to paint."

Michel fell silent as she babbled about how she liked especially coloring, and drawing objects like people. He never really thought about it. If not for music, then, what else was he good at? Or rather, what else _he could_ do? Imagine a horrible scenario that took his ability to play music—then what would be left of Michel d'Alembert?

"...What's wrong, Michel?" Cloé asked in concern, as the boy beside her had been silent and seemed to be thinking of something else.

Michel didn't answer. Instead, he sighed and looked up at the high, expensively-decorated ceilings. They were going to have the concert in the Ardennes's Private Hall. Cloé's family surely was rich—she could have anything she'd ever wanted. While he, Michel, his family was so-so. He played concerts almost every week with Pierre, most of the time, and their father was their manager. That's only how they could get by, and they hired cheap servants and governess—mostly desperate people who needed a bed and average meal.

The blonde-haired boy then glanced at his violin case. He bent down and took out the instrument, standing up. He had a bitter smile on his face, but also the face of acceptance.

If it's his fate to be chained by the strings of violin—which apparently the case—then he had to suck it up, didn't he? He was not Cloé. He was not rich, nor he had any other specialty like she did. It was unfair, but since when life is? Rather than whining about what he has, Michel then, albeit bitterly, wanted to try to enjoy it.

For some reason, being with Cloé, he felt like he could do it. Not that he'd be seeing her anytime soon after this, but hopefully, this kind of determination would stay.

"We have thirty minutes before the audiences arrive," said Michel, lifting his bow. Cloé watched him expectantly while turning to the piano. "I'd like to play something else before we play _Nocturne_."

Cloé lit up sweetly. "What would you like to play, Michel?"

Just like Cloé who had her own secret and hobby—and a chance of freedom, Michel felt like he would have the same chance. Starting with playing what he likes rather than what he's paid for.

"_Ave Maria_."

The gentle, fleeting melody filled the hall, the ceilings, echoing as their prayer. A prayer to be freed from their fate.

Both Cloé and Michel knew that a prayer doesn't always come true, but what's so wrong about having it? Only that, they were young and didn't exactly know what they'd wanted, or needed. There was nothing wrong with it.

If only they'd known the kind of future awaits them—one that's as dark as the cloud outside. That what they'd really wanted would soon be changed. Because sometimes, you prayed for something that's against what you really need.

And neither of them would have known, that they'd learned it the hard way.

But let them enjoy the moment.

For now, let them soak into the fleeting gentleness of _Ave Maria_.

* * *

**I am very obsessed with this game, and the characters. This piece is inspired by the last flashback when they played _Nocturne No. 20_ (Chopin). They had an untold rehearsal, and I think this will fit right into the plot, as a what-if or what might happened, maybe a reason why Michel named his cat 'Clo**é'.


End file.
